Chapter 11: The Wolf's Cuirass

"A little more!"

Jarl Balgruuf instructed his men as they struggled raising the new gates. Days had passed since the raid of Whiterun, and what was lost was still mourned. The city in trauma from the horrendous evening of the 1st of Morning Star. However, as townspeople rebuilt the damage, their hearts slowly rejoined in a greater resolve. Bonds were closer, and vigilance stronger to the threat coming to their city again. Jarl Balgruuf was certain to help his citizens heal anyway he could; but the process of rebuilding a new gate required patience. Finally, a long-awaited event in Whiterun was happening. The installation of a new gate. Slowly townspeople gathered around the front to watch the gates put into place.

"Perfect! Keep it there! Ulfberth!" Jarl Balgruuf called.

Adrianne assisted on the other side. The citizens awaited with bated breath for the gate to be operable. Irileth and Proventus Avenicci stood to the side of the Jarl, while still melancholic on the reason for repair.

"Here we go!" Adrianne said as she nailed in the last bolt. She shouted, "There, let's try that!"

As Ulfberth and Adrianne stepped off the ladders, two guards came to the front doors and pulled on the handles. The gates creaked and pulled open, revealing the outside of the city. The townspeople cheered, with Jarl Balgruuf smiling gladly at the new installation and a reinforced security for their city.

Irileth muttered to the Jarl, "Hmph. Wood again. Flammable and easy to destroy… You know what they say about people who do the same thing and expect a different outcome."

"This isn't Markarth, Irileth," the Jarl scolded, "I've had enough of letting my people down. They want to remember Whiterun for what she is and what they've always known. I start putting in metal doors, it will always remind us of that night. This door will be a sense of healing for our city."

"I couldn't agree more, my lord," praised Proventus Avenicci, "It's a beautiful gate. Well reinforced, I believe. Just look around at the people, they have tears in their eyes! This is a glorious day for Whiterun. We prevailed!"

Irileth drearily said, "Say that to Amren and Sinmir. Or better yet, the several guard we lost. We did not prevail in the slightest. We are licking our wounds. It's only a matter of time before the vampires strike again."

Jarl Balgruuf hissed back at her, "Silence. You want to speak in such a way you can save it for Dragonsreach. Not here— not in front of my people, Irileth."

Irileth sighed, "Apologies, my lord."

"The drawbridge is lifted, my men only allow entry to those who state their business and have a fair reason to enter the city. We've had two new recruits to our forces and more to come soon. The Dawnguard have whipped our men into shape and gotten them frosty on techniques for vampire combat. I hardly see any of them at the Mare, anymore. They are all too preoccupied with training. It may not look like much, but it's all a tremendous measure for Whiterun. We are doing the absolute best we can, Irileth."

Irileth implored, "My lord… I still press that we should call out to the Legion. Their forces would…" The Jarl interrupted heatedly.

"No more of that. I told you not to bring it up again. This is our fight. And we are bound to win it!"

A guard came through the newly raised gates to Jarl Balgruuf.

"My Jarl!" The guard called, "We've got a courier outside the drawbridge, claiming to have a letter from Fort Dawnguard. It's for Skjor, up in Jorrvaskr."

Jarl Balgruuf grew a proud grin and looked to Irileth, "You see? Hope lingers over the horizon yet. That is undoubtedly news from Kodlak and the rest of the Circle." He looked over to the guard and ordered, "Let him in. Skjor will be elated to know his fierce friends still keep the fight and avenge Whiterun."

"Yes, sir," the guard bowed and retreated back to the drawbridge. The courier came into the city with a delighted smile, only to be met with the city still in much disrepair. He made his way to Jorrvaskr to deliver the letter to Skjor.

In the yard of Jorrvaskr, all the remaining Companions were training, with Skjor and Vignar keeping a watchful eye. Torvar and Njada sparred together, and Ria practiced her archery at the post. Athis used the ward spells taught to them by the Dawnguard.

Vignar snarled at this with his arms crossed, "Can't believe I'm seeing our whelps using magic of all things… it's a travesty."

Skjor stated back, "I know. It's taking a while getting used to. Luckily, it's only one spell. If it protects us from the infection, I think it's worth at least consideration."

Skjor called out to Torvar, "Good arm! Keep up that swing. You've improved by leagues, Torvar."

"Thank you, sir!" Torvar chimed to his master at arms whilst dodging an attack by Njada.

"Especially now that you're not drinking yourself into a stupor every night."

"Ria is turning into an impeccable shot," observed Vignar, "Who knew she'd be a fearful sight with a bow? Girl looked like she could barely swing a blade when she came here, remember? I was stunned to learn she were training with Vilkas. Hot head," reminisced Vignar with Skjor.

Skjor nodded, "I remember. They've all improved. It's a proud sight."

"Hah!" Vignar cracked, "Especially now that they've got the 'Iron Hammer' Skjor breathing down their necks. I know you don't agree, but the rest of the Circle… Aela and the twins… those pups are too busy trying to teach themselves, much less help teach these whelps. But I miss them, dearly… I miss Kodlak. I just hope wherever they are, they are bringing glory to Jorrvaskr."

"I know they are," Skjor smiled up at the blue skies as his thoughts carried the face of Aela.

The courier came through to the yard with his letter in hand. He approached the two warriors and asked, "Excuse me… are one of you 'Skjor'?"

Skjor looked back and said, "That's me, you've got something?"

The courier addressed, "A letter from Fort Dawnguard. Kodlak Whitemane made it clear to deliver it to you and you only," he handed the stamped letter in Skjor's rough hands.

"It's about time. Thank you," Skjor said to the courier who gave a bow before leaving the yard of Jorrvaskr. Skjor peeled the letter open and began reading. His face growing more pensive as he read on.

Vignar glanced his eyes to the letter and up at Skjor, "Well… don't leave an old man in suspense. What does it say?"

"They are fine," grumbled Skjor, "But they've made discoveries on the vampire's motives… and… they have an Elder Scroll."

Vignar croaked, "I pray to the Divine's I'm just losing my hearing, but did you say an 'Elder Scroll'?"

Skjor looked up from the letter and called over the whelps, "All of you, here now!"

The four of them approached Skjor and Vignar before the steps to the patio.

Athis called out, "What's going on?"

"I just received a letter from Kodlak," said Skjor as the others exchanged worrisome looks. Skjor continued, "They are all fine— still alive, and keeping the fight against the fiends. However, it's come to my attention that the vampires are in possession of an Elder Scroll."

Athis asked in disbelief, "What?!"

Ria raised, "An Elder Scroll, what's that?"

Skjor explained, "It's an ancient artifact… definitely not our area of expertise. But from my understanding, it's something of great power and is rightly feared. Kodlak and the others are still unaware of why they keep one, but he believes, and so do I, that it is a tool for a calamity event."

Njada asked in a shallow voice, "What do we do?"

"Keep training. Prepare for the worst. And pray to the Divine's that Kodlak, Aela, Vilkas and Farkas stop them before they meet the end to their means," Skjor ordered, "You can continue with training. Go on, now."

The Companions left the attention of Skjor and back to their training. Vignar muttered to Skjor, "What do we do?"

"I need to get this information to the Jarl, immediately. Keep an eye on the whelps for me. I don't know how they will handle this information as it sets in. Try to keep their spirits cool."

Vignar curled his wrinkled brow and grumbled to himself, "Very well. You don't live to this ripe age to not see everything, I suppose."

The ash from Dayspring Canyon carried heavy in a growing mist. The painful shrieks of the injured, and barking orders of the Dawnguard healers echoed along the valley. A looming dread that gave a dark ambiance to the heroes that stared at the cuirass held up to Kodlak's chest. Farkas's breath carried heavier and irater the longer he stood in thought.

"That's not Vilkas," Farkas blurted angrily, "No… he… he… he took it off! It doesn't mean anything!"

Aela soothed, "Farkas…"

"NO! Don't say that! You can't say that!"

"It was found in the ash, those lightning spells…" Aela whispered, "I know you can't believe it now, but Vilkas is…"

"SHUT UP!" Farkas yelled like a clap of thunder, "You don't know anything! He's not dead! I know it! He's my brother, I would know!"

Mimzi's had slow rolling tears down her cheeks as she griped with the thought. She stayed behind Aela and stared up at Farkas, usually such a soft, kind-hearted man, regressed to fits of anger in moments.

Farkas's face winced and his body shook, tears leeched down his dirt-riddled cheeks, "You don't get to say that. He's my brother. You… you…"

Farkas's speech dwindled as Kodlak bobbed his shoulders and clenched his teeth. Wheezing cries escaped him, and tears rushed down his squinted eyes. Kodlak gripped the cuirass to his chest and hugged the metal. He leaned his cheek against the collar and collapsed to his knees. Kodlak wept into the cuirass, which brought despair to those who saw it. Aela knelt down with Kodlak and wrapped her arms around him, then rested her head to his shoulder, trying to comfort her Harbinger as much as she could.

Farkas went red and eyes shot wide, "No! Stop crying! He's not dead! You all just going to give up on him?! To Oblivion with you! With all of you! He's not dead!"

Farkas violently kicked the ash and grabbed a vampire armour plate and threw it into the shrub. He marched back to Fort Dawnguard.

Aela called out to him in a doleful cry, "Farkas, please!"

"HE'S NOT DEAD!"

Serana stayed to Mimzi's back but kept her distance, her hood was up and her red eyes loomed to the ground. Isran bowed his head in prayer then said, "I cannot describe how sorry I am… for all of you."

'He's gone…' Mimzi thought to herself, and a fury built as she thought of the Divines, 'Why did you do this? Why would you give me him just to do this? What is wrong with you?!'

Aela muttered to Isran, "Leave us…"

Isran bowed, "As you wish." He trudged his boots back to aid his comrades in assisting the injured and gathering the dead. Mimzi looked down to Aela and Kodlak. His cries fed a familiar dread.

Kodlak wept through hoarse croaks, "My boy… my dearest boy… what have I done? No… no…"

Mimzi wiped away her tears and abruptly walked away. She breathed in trying to calm herself. The memories of the blazes of Whiffet Hall came back. She clasped her chest to help steady her breathing. Serana's footsteps were close behind. Mimzi's panic was quickly bombarded by unbridled rage. Her teeth clenched before turning back to Serana with an infuriated glare.

"Gods… would you stop following me?! This is your fault! All of this is because of you!" Mimzi's squall made Serana flinch.

"What?" Serana gasped, "I didn't mean for… I have nowhere else to go."

"And I care?! You're not my problem, not anymore. Just… leave me alone."

Mimzi paced back inside the keep. She walked back to the tower. As she passed an entryway, she saw Farkas. He was sitting against the stone deeper into the hall, his head craned and face buried in his hands. Mimzi pressed her lips and fought back tears. She continued down the hall to the south tower. She ran up the stairwell and plowed through the doors, greeting the misty, ash-full air once again. She climbed over a crate and sat against the wall of the tower with her eyes shut and lips quivering. She glanced over to the remnants of the tent he made for her. His hands touched and crafted the leather. Now alone she let her tears fall. Turning into suppressed sobs.

Serana slowly drifted along the corridors of Fort Dawnguard for what felt like hours. Guilt pierced worse than what any other vampire could understand. The Dawnguard men cried in pain as they were carried in. She looked out the open front doors to the lingering haze and drifting ash from the vampire attack. The attack that never would have come to pass if she hadn't arrived at Dawnguard. She resented the monolith for centuries. But in this moment, she felt it was where she belonged. Mimzi's words stained inside her head. Serana sat quietly against a bench in a dark hallway. She looked down the hall from her and saw Farkas huddled over against the wall on the floor. She had brought only pain and loss to this fort, where she thought she was indulging their best intentions.

The day passed into the evening, Dawnguard grieved for those lost. A mound was dug for the resting of the fallen. Durak pitifully carried the remains of Celann wrapped in linen. He gently placed the body along with the rest of warriors who fought to protect Fort Dawnguard.

Durak knelt down and braved the bitter winter air as the sun faded behind the canyon hills.

"Celann. I never told you this and I probably never would have. But… you were my greatest friend. You were a damn good Dawnguard— better than me. I just… wish I could have told you. Rest now, brother. Find eternal peace with your Divines. You brought the dawn, and I will do so now with your memory, forever." Durak laid an amulet of Stendarr down to Celann's chest and stood up in a tremble. He grabbed the shovel and started throwing over dirt as Agmaer assisted.

Agmaer breathed quietly to Durak, "I'm sorry…"

"Me too, kid. There will come a day when you too bury your friends. Just don't do what I did. Don't let them leave the world without knowing what they meant to you. Celann… well, a day didn't go by where I didn't poke fun at him, or bully or pass him off. Call it a curse of being a bullheaded Orc. But… I always saw him as my brother, the best. Don't let them leave this world thinking you thought of them as a burden. That'll be what haunts me till my own grave mound.".

"I will, sir."

"Good," said Durak, "Now let's get this over with." He continued throwing dirt over the mound as Agmaer did the same. Their souls were heavy against such shame to lay their comrades to rest. The guilt of surviving was the curse of victory.

Isran walked along the balcony heading back to his quarters after the long, dreadful day of identifying the dead and healing the injured. He passed Kodlak's quarters where he sat at the desk prying his eyes at notes once more. Isran hesitated to go back to his quarters. He ambled inside Kodlak's and lightly knocked on the door frame. Kodlak didn't look up as he strained his eyes at the parchments.

Isran muttered, "If you'd like, we can arrange a funeral service for Vilkas here at the fort. We didn't know him long, but he was a fierce warrior. A damn good man. He struck fear in the hearts of vampires as he reigned in our ranks. I'd be honoured to pay my respects."

"No…" Kodlak stated shallowly, "We cannot put his soul to rest yet. It will be in the Skyforge in Whiterun. Where all worthy Companions rejoin their souls to the gods," he looked up from his letters and said, "I leave tomorrow morning. There is something I need to do… as soon as possible. I'm sorry that I cannot be of further use. The others may stay if they wish, but there's nothing more I can offer to this fight. As I'm fighting a war of my own now."

Isran minded his slighted expression to not offend Kodlak, "A war of your own?"

"For Vilkas's soul."

Isran uttered, "What?"

Kodlak looked up from his notes and breathed in before saying, "We are werewolves. I'm sure you figured it out by now, all of us… Aela, Farkas, Vilkas and myself, we share beastblood. Do you know where werewolves go when they die?"

Isran remained quiet.

"It's a plane of Oblivion, known as 'The Hunting Grounds'. It is a place of constant terror and strife. Like all planes of Oblivion, it is an instrument of torture made for mortals. My boy… Vilkas. He wanted nothing more than to spend his afterlife in the golden meadows of Sovngarde, and revel with his ancestors in the Hall of Valor. We were on the cusp of finding the cure. Together we… we…" Kodlak breathed in deeply to compose himself then said, "I won't stop until his soul rests in Sovngarde. I cannot waste the last of my years on anything else than this. Not while he's there… to think he's there now as we speak. Gods… that is far worse than the knowledge of his passing."

Isran asked, "Are you certain you want to do this?"

"I've never been surer of anything in my life."

The two men stared at each other in solemn tension. The bitter silence of the fort and the unwavering stare of Kodlak was its own voice.

"As you wish. My condolences."

Isran made a fast walk out of Kodlak's quarters. He looked back to his books on the dread of the Hunting Grounds, and his yearning to save Vilkas. A tear fell over the parchment from his eye.

"What are we doing, Kodlak?"

Kodlak's memories went back twenty-one years ago. He looked down to Vilkas who had just entered his twelfth summer. He smiled down at him and patted his head.

"Something I've been wanting to show you for years," smiled Kodlak as they walked out to the yard of Jorrvaskr, "We've seen you in action with a bow, now I'm eager to see how you swing a blade."

Vilkas creased a childish, crooked grin, "Really? I get to swing a sword?! Like a big one?!"

Kodlak guffawed, "Haha! No, just a wooden sword for now. But if you want to be a Companion one day, you need to practice with what you can, when you can. Soon enough, my boy. Now, take this," Kodlak handed a wooden sword to Vilkas. Kodlak gripped a wooden sword of his own, "Now, take a few steps away from me. I'm going to show you a few tricks on melee combat; the basics. Now… come at me! Let's see your strength for starters!"

Vilkas hesitated at first, "I don't want to hurt you…"

Kodlak softened his eyes and smiled, "You won't. If it helps, pretend it isn't me. Pretend I'm the braggart, dust brained Idolaf. The one that keeps picking on you."

Vilkas creeped a mischievous grin, "Careful, I might just kill you."

Kodlak erupted in laughter and praised, "That's the fire I'm talking about! Now, swing!"

Vilkas breathed out and braced himself. Then hurled a swing at Kodlak. He easily deflected it and grunted, "Oh, come now. That's all you can muster? I know better. Swing harder!"

Vilkas thrashed his sword again, where Kodlak deflected.

"Harder!"

He persisted at Kodlak repeatedly; clacking the wood again and again.

"Harder!"

Vilkas roared and thrashed his sword once again. His face flushed and silver eyes wide. As Kodlak deflected another hit, Vilkas ripped the wood of Kodlak's sword in half, which went thudding across the yard's cobblestone. Vilkas stopped and breathed out in shock at what he'd done. Kodlak looked down at his shredded sword and back at how far the other piece went flying. He erupted in celebratory laughter and dropped the hilt of the wooden sword to clap. Vilkas smiled, then beamed a grin.

Kodlak praised, "Haha! Did you see that, Vignar?!" He looked back to the old warrior who sat at the tables of the patio and raised a mug.

"That I did, Kodlak! Boy has a fine arm on him! He's going to fight like a sabre cat!"

Kodlak laughed and agreed, "Of course he will! I knew he had it in him. I always knew it."

Vilkas lunged at Kodlak with a tight hug. Kodlak swept the boy up in a spin. He scuffled his jet-black hair and patted his shoulder.

The memory faded as Kodlak was brought back to the depressing research. He was returned to the dread of reality he lived in. He closed it shut and bowed his head over the table, allowing the hopeless thoughts to endure once more.

Serana sauntered up the steps to the south tower to retrieve her knapsack and books. The Elder Scroll on her back weighed on her shoulders, and hoped to take it off to rest until day broke again. She opened the doors and was greeted by a still Skyrim night. The stars flooded the sky and the two moons out. She walked to the nearest arrow slit in fear she'd see what she saw the night before. Dayspring Canyon was left as it was when the vampires fled, in embers and desolation, but no armies of vampires. As she turned to retrieve her things she startled at the dark shape of Mimzi sitting on the crate. Her arm up rested over her knee and the back of her head against the wall.

"Oh…" Serana muttered, "Didn't know you were here… I'll just grab my things and get out of your hair. Don't worry."

Serana walked close to Mimzi and slouched over to grab her knapsack and book, as well as Aela's armour. She stood and went back the way she came, certain she could not rest there as Mimzi claimed it.

"I never got to be like other girls my age," said Mimzi quietly.

Serana halted at the sound of her voice. She turned back to her who was still vacantly staring into her boots.

"What?"

Mimzi said in a flat voice, "I never really had a chance but I also didn't care much about it. It never bothered me."

"What's so special about other girls?"

"Not much, I guess. They lived simply… like it was too easy for them. In the Imperial City, I'd spend my day begging on the side of the street for a piece of moldy bread to last me the week. When girls my age just went passed in their dresses or flower baskets, whatever. Talking about the next party or how they wanted to do their hair or what boy they liked. Stupid stuff. Meaningless. I didn't realize until then that's how other girls my age were meant to live."

"Why does it suddenly bother you?"

"I don't know… I say I don't care but yeah… I was jealous of them. They had so much money and their mama and pa to help them through anything, that they had the time to think about all that. Dresses, parties and boys. It seemed nice…"

Serana scoffed, "You don't strike me as the type to frolic around with flower baskets…"

"I didn't get the chance. I never felt anything close to that… not once. Not until…"

"Until… what?"

Mimzi shook her head angrily, "It's stupid. I felt it so shortly it barely happened. From this guy, this complete arse. He treated me like scum, getting me to sharpen his sword and calling me an idiot. Then all of a sudden, he's giving me this weird, 'almost so happy I felt sick' feeling. I was worried about how my hair looked, or what I'm wearing, or how smell. I've never had that, ever. Now he's dead. Like it was all just a prank from the gods to remind me I'm not like other girls. I'm not simple. Everyone and anyone I care about… even the tiniest bit… they leave me."

After sometime of silence, Serana replied, "You're in shock. The gods aren't laughing at you. I just passed Farkas whose been sitting in the hall for the last six hours; he hasn't moved an inch. You're all in shock. It's cruel and sick how this world works, but you're not alone in this suffering. You're not the only one who loved him, so why not talk about it with those who shared that love for him? Like Aela, Farkas and Kodlak. You all need each other."

"Why am I even up here feeling this way? Why can't I be like you? All emotionally detached and whatever. I didn't know him. Why would I go talk with them when I have no idea how they feel? I should be comforting them, not sitting up here doing whatever this is."

"Because you are grieving, and you do deserve the right to. Look what he did for you…" Serana gestured to the tent, "You knew him in a way they didn't, but that doesn't mean you didn't know him."

Mimzi buried her face into her hands and tried to breathe away the tears. She slammed her head at the back of the wall again and exhaled. "I don't get it... he was barely in my life. Why does it... hurt so much?"

"Eventually it may hurt less and less until it only hurts a little. I wish I could tell you differently. You have a right to grieve. You need to if you want to feel better."

Mimzi sighed and said, "I'm sorry I blamed you for it. I needed someone to blame. First it was you, then it was me… then the gods. I don't know who to blame. Vampires probably would have showed up even if you didn't come here…"

"You just said it yourself… you know who to blame."

"They all need to die."

"I couldn't agree more." Serana said, "You should get some sleep… or at least try to."

"Yeah… Sure," Mimzi weakly replied. Serana smiled and walked back to the entrance to Fort Dawnguard, leaving Mimzi to her thoughts.

Outside the fort, Aela practiced her archery. With the archery post destroyed, she used a tree trunk for a target. Her eyes tried to say steady, but the water in her eyes fogged her vision. The tears swelled as her thoughts were with Vilkas. A man she had known since her adolescence. A rival, a shield-brother, a friend, forever gone from mundus. She was once a clear shot who could land her aim with her eyes closed, now could barely hit the bark of the tree. Aela shot again and missed her target, she seethed and shot again, just barely scraping the side of the bark. She growled and shot again, then did so repeatedly while nearing the tree. Suddenly she whipped the bow at the tree with a vicious roar. Aela breathed deeply and coursed her hands through her hair. She paced along the shrubby grass.

She couldn't help but hate herself for thinking if Vilkas had turned, he could have properly defended himself. She could have saved him from the thought of it being a 'curse'. Her family was torn. Kodlak wept in his quarters, as Farkas lay broken on the Dawnguard floor. Skjor was oblivious to it all but would suffer from the knowledge of Vilkas's passing, undoubtedly blaming her and the others for not protecting him. Every reason to why she joined the Companions was in wreckage, their shield-brother was gone. Not just any shield-brother, but a man who had grown in the very walls of Jorrvaskr. Who was breathed in Ysgramor's legacy since a pup. Aela reluctantly snatched her bow from below the pine tree. She wandered back to the doors of the fort.

As she walked through the main chamber, she spotted Farkas. He was still hunched over by the wall in the dark. Aela had half a mind to go and comfort him, but knew he wouldn't want it. She kept to herself and back to the barracks where the rest of the Dawnguard were in bed. She set down her bow before she spotted Serana waiting at the entrance of the barracks. Aela walked back to her, uncertain what she needed. In Serana's hands she held Aela's armour from the south tower.

"Came to give you this… figured you'd want it," said Serana as Aela took her armour back, the boots and gauntlets on top.

"Thanks…" Aela muttered, "Where is Mimzi?"

"South tower… she's not really in the mood for visitors. Just a heads up."

"She's grieving too, isn't she?"

"Yeah… she's sad. You all are."

"Well… she should know he was smitten by her. He definitely didn't admit it but… he didn't have to. I'm fluent in Vilkas so… I know."

Serana asked, "Are you okay? Actually, scratch that. Stupid question. I should ask… how are you feeling?"

"Like I lost a brother," Aela then stomped back to her cot.

Serana backed away from the entrance of the barracks and returned to the dark. She kept her eyes to Farkas, watching and waiting for him to move. Serana shuddered at the compassion she felt for these people she hadn't known for long, but somehow had grown a fondness for. Even if most of them treated her like a monster, she saw their lives admirably. She cared for them in her own way, even if they didn't allow her into their fold, she still remained in their shadows if any of them needed her. She strangely relished the feeling of being part of something she never had before. To see their grief at the loss of someone was something she had never experienced. It offered a different perspective.

Serana contemplated in the quiet. No one moved, and the only two still awake were herself and Farkas. Hours of the night crept by, and suddenly Farkas shot up. Serana almost flinched at his reanimation but kept herself in the shadows. He marched to the barracks where his steel boots on the stone echoed. Serana peeked behind the wall. In a few moments he came marching back out, and she retreated behind the wall. He made a fast pace to the doors of the keep: equipped his knapsack and a traveller's cloak. He had his greatsword sheathed to his back as if he was heading into battle. He threw the doors open and left the keep abruptly. Serana hesitated before running after him. She trusted one person in the fort. She fled down the hall back to the south tower to awake Mimzi.

Up on the tower, Mimzi was in the tent sleeping. Serana knelt down and gently nudged her, who shot up on instinct with a dagger in her hand.

Serana exclaimed, "Whoa! You do that every time someone tries to wake you?"

"What do you want?" Her eyes were swollen from the day of crying.

"I figured you'd want to know Farkas just left the fort and he's armoured to the teeth. Figured you should know about that…"

"What? Did you wake Aela?"

"No… I woke you."

Mimzi groaned and crawled out of bed, grabbing her belongings and sheathing her weapons before sprinting to the doors. In the barracks, Aela was awoken suddenly by Mimzi and Serana standing over her cot. The rest of the Dawnguard slept with only the three women awake.

Aela croaked, "What's going on?"

"Farkas just left," said Mimzi.

Aela stood out of bed immediately and grabbed her bow. She equipped her armour, certain he was heading into trouble under a vengeful calling. She bolted with the two out the doors to seek Farkas.

Passed the springs and towards the tunnel to the Rift, Farkas made a fast, pensive trudge to the exit. The white of his eyes were red, and cheeks flushed and wet. The black paint along his eyes rimmed red. He seethed deeply with every stomp of his boot. Slowly three figures emerged behind him, and he could hear the patter of their footsteps. He slowed his pace and stopped at the crunch of leaves. He looked back at the three familiar faces behind him.

He asked, "What are you doing out here?"

Aela appeared under the moonlight with Serana and Mimzi revealed to her sides, "We could ask you the same thing."

Farkas pressed his lips and sputtered air from his nose. He looked away from them stubbornly.

Aela asked again, "Where are you going, Farkas?"

"Where do you think?" Farkas growled, "To avenge my brother. I'm going to that castle right now, and I'm cutting the bastards' head off, myself."

Serana said as she worryingly stepped closer, "That's not… a good idea."

Farkas snapped, "I don't care what you think. I'm doing it. None of you can tell me different. Now… go back to the damn fort," he went to turn back to his trek out the canyon.

"You're not going alone then," called Mimzi, "I'm going with you."

Serana hissed, "What?!"

Aela intruded, "Okay look... both of you. I get it, the rage. I feel it, too. They need to pay, but not like this… this is a suicide mission."

"Don't be so sure of that. You'd be surprised what I'm capable of when I'm angry," grunted Mimzi as she went to Farkas's side. "I've been wanting to darken the doorstep of that castle all damn day."

Aela stated, "Our minds are riddled in grief, but we still must keep our heads."

Farkas began to weep, "He's down there, Aela," his voice croaked and lips quivered. Aela's heart dwindled at the sight of her broken shield-brother.

"Farkas…"

"He's there right now… in that place. Vilkas… he… he shouldn't be there. He should be in Sovngarde. He doesn't belong there… he's probably so scared. I can't leave my brother there alone… to be Hircine's plaything. If I die… he won't be alone. I can be there too. I've never… I've never been anywhere without him. I go where my brother goes, always. I… I don't want him to be alone."

"I'm not letting you walk in there just to kill yourself," Mimzi warned, "If we're going there, we are destroying every last one of them. I'm not letting you go in there alone. This doesn't need to be a suicide mission. We're strong. Let's make them pay."

"Well… when you put it like that," Aela relented, "We stick together. We can wet our blades for Vilkas in his honour. I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be than avenging him."

Serana claimed, "Then I'm going… I know that castle inside and out. If you all are serious about this stupid idea, and let me tell you, it's a real stupid idea, then I should come, too. I can help."

Farkas wilted and asked, "You're all… sure about this?"

The women stayed silent and stoically nodded. His lip waggled again and eyes still ran with tears. He nodded back and said, "For Vilkas…"

Mimzi and Aela said together, "For Vilkas…"

All armed, the four warriors walked from Dayspring Canyon. Their hearts were set to the northwest of Skyrim, passed Solitude. Where they would lay siege upon Castle Volkihar, and kill Harkon themselves, once and for all.

Waves from the Sea of Ghosts raged against the island to the north of Skyrim's shore. The sky was grey and blistering snow blew with the ferocity of wind against the sea. Castle Volkihar was shrouded in gloom. The vampires from within the walls discontented at the news of their failure at Fort Dawnguard.

Vingalmo walked through the blood painted dining hall and towards the dungeons. He was abruptly stopped by Garan Marethi, another high-ranking vampire among Castle Volkihar's numbers.

"Ah, it's you. You're finally back. Did you see what the grunts brought in? Harkon is positively giddy, despite the audacity you failed to capture Serana. How many vampires did you have, a hundred?!" Garan berated at the haughty High Elf, who rolled his eyes.

"Clearly, we underestimated the power the Fort Dawnguard wields… They had a dragon, for Molag's sake! How was I to know they had a Dragonborn in their numbers. Much less armoured trolls! It was absolutely ridiculous."

"You can save it for Lord Harkon, he's inclined to speak to you. I would do it now while he's in an elated mood, he's down in the dungeons."

"Oh great…" Vingalmo grunted, "After my long trek of gathering vampires from high and low of this dead province! I'll be needing a goblet of blood after this… fresh blood, not that swill from the dead cattle!"

"Go on, then! You'd be a fool to keep him waiting. Off with you!"

"Daedra devour you, Garan," sneered Vingalmo and made his way down the thrall dungeons. He passed through the dining hall to an entry on the right and declined down a flight of steps. Vingalmo spooked at the sight of Lord Harkon awaiting at the doorway.

"Ah! My lord! As unpredictable as a night's secrets remain… well played."

Vingalmo gulped in fear as he nervously beamed a fanged smile at the vampire lord. Harkon stayed still, keeping a vacant gawk down at Vingalmo.

Finally Harkon croaked, "Vingalmo… you disappointed me. I trusted you'd bring my daughter and the Elder Scroll back where they belong…"

"Yes, my lord…" Vingalmo mumbled, "There was an unforeseen escalation. As it appears the Dawnguard are in possession of a Dragonborn… and disgustingly— werewolves. Somehow their strength prevailed the militia I gathered to that canyon. I am pained to come back empty handed… but their ranks are weakened. Give me the word and I will resemble our forces and lay siege on their primitive fort yet again."

"No… we have time to spare. As you failed to acquire Serana, the mutts from Redwater brought me a favour to be allowed in my court. Perhaps we now have leverage to negotiate…"

"Redwater Den?" Vingalmo raised, "But I just…"

Harkon shown his blood stained teeth in a grin, "Yes, you did. So you weren't completely useless as it seems. Would you like to see it, Vingalmo?"

"Oh… uh. Yes, my lord. I will indulge…"

Harkon curled his finger for him to follow down to the thrall dungeons. They passed cages brimming with sluggish and drained individuals wrapped in rags, or simply nude. The walls were cluttered in old bones and skulls from previous thralls that had been bled. Harkon stopped at the end of the hall, passed a torture rack, and faced his right. Vingalmo turned to see what Harkon was beholding and befuddled at what lay wall shackled.

Vingalmo irked, "It smells horrid…"

Harkon said as he slowly approached it, "Yes… well, it's not about the smell. It's about what it can do. Isn't it, little one?"

Vingalmo baffled at the sight of a young Nord man, chained by his arms up to the wall, his black hair hung to his face as his head fell forward. He was bare chested and dripping in sweat and blood. He only wore rag pants loosely off his hips. Thrashes and bruises all along his frame. The man slowly glanced up, glaring his black-painted eyes up at the monsters before him. He clenched his teeth and his lips twitched as he fought with the shackles.

"My apologies…" Harkon knelt down to the man, "That's no way to speak to a Companion. For your hall is revelled in Nord song and legend. Can you tell us a story, Vilkas? Please, regale me with a tale."

Vilkas stayed a hateful glare to Harkon, seething through his nose. His hands bruised in blood from the restriction of his pull against the shackles.

Harkon hummed and stood, "Hmm… suppose not. He was a lot more chatty before you came in. Quite the foul mouth on this one… I say, he scared the thralls half to death… can't have that, mortem blood is so… unappetizing."

"Why do you have this thing here? A werewolf in our court?! What if he turns?"

"He won't… I'd wager he'd rather die than succumb to his beast. He knows if he does… he won't be able to turn back to human. Would you?" Harkon asked down to Vilkas, "You haven't turned in a long time, dear boy. Hircine's patience wears thin. If you turn, he won't risk your human form locking away his gift once more. Daedric Princes… fickle, cruel masters… I know too well."

Vingalmo raised to his lord, "What do you plan on doing with him?"

Harkon explained, "If the Dawnguard refuse to offer Serana, perhaps we can offer something equal in value to them. Those Companions… sentimental fools. Send a courier to their canyon, at once. They'll be taking a risk walking amongst those brutes, but if they wish to open the doors to paradise for our kind they will do my bidding."

Vingalmo bowed, "Right away, Lord Harkon."

As Vingalmo left, Harkon beamed a satisfied grin at Vilkas and slowly approached him again. Vilkas's fear-striking glare succumbed to uneasy panic as Harkon came nearer. He grabbed a handful of Vilkas's hair and pulled his head back against the wall. He remained undaunted as Harkon's grip pulled tighter.

"I do hope you enjoy our hospitality so far; it may be a while before your friends know of your tragic capture. So please, get comfortable."

Vilkas spat at Harkon's chest. Harkon looked down in aloof disgust and glanced his red eyes back at Vilkas, shaking his head.

"You're one ugly son of a bitch," Vilkas's voice was hoarse from the strain of screaming at the hands of recent torture.

"You haven't seen the ugliest of me yet, little one," said Harkon and threw Vilkas's head back against the wall.

Harkon fled from the dungeon leaving him alone once more. Vilkas glared down at the ground still wincing from the pain of his injuries. He kept his mind busy with thoughts of those he loved, and faces he wished to see once more. The stoic yet sisterly tones he'd banter with in Jorrvaskr's yard as she'd practice her archery. The warm conversations with his Harbinger where words offered were always filled with understanding. His brother's unbridled joy as he belly laughed after a few bottles of mead and spat it out through his nostrils. Their three faces stayed with him as he tried to distract from the pain. The rotten stench of the dungeon he replaced with the warm scent of Jorrvaskr's mead hall. Through the pain and uncertainty of where he was now, he tried to remember home. To where he hoped home would find him.